


Captain and Quartermaster

by Farasha



Category: Black Sails, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farasha/pseuds/Farasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old friend of Captain Flint's comes to Nassau. Silver isn't sure how to feel about this dark-haired stranger taking his captain's attention.</p>
<p>Written in response to a prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain and Quartermaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellel/gifts).



> This short little drabble was written in response to a prompt from the lovely ellelan over on Tumblr. I sat on this prompt for a seemingly interminable amount of time and then it all came in a rush.

Near five years of sailing with the most notorious pirate in the Caribbean had gifted Silver with an extensive knowledge of the ships that made berth in the various lawless ports around the islands. He liked to think that by now, he knew the line of every keel and set of sails worth noting, and knew which banners they flew to boot.

So waking up to find the bed already cold (how James had slipped out of the bungalow without him noticing, he did not know) and stepping out onto the porch to see a ship he did not recognize in port was a disconcerting feeling, to say the least.

A crewman noted the dark scowl on his face and pointed him in the direction of Max's tavern without prompting. Silver's brow knit further - James wasn't one for drinking, not before the sun had dipped below the horizon and _certainly_ not before it had even come to noon zenith.

The false leg put a barely noticeable hitch in his gait these days, used to it as he was, and he was far more mobile than he had been in the first couple years, when he still relied on his crutch more often than not. It took him no time to get from the bungalow to the tavern. It still being relatively early, there weren't many patrons - not as many as would be waking up and stumbling downstairs in the brothel across the way. It was easy for Silver to pick out James' red hair - easier still when the man in question threw back his head and _laughed_ at whatever his drinking companion had said.

Silver slowed his steps. If he was the type to let his eye wander (which he was _not_ , thank you), he could have been tempted by this man. He was broad-shouldered, handsome of face, with long dark hair left loose around his shoulders. He had a full beard that covered a strong jawline, and sharp blue eyes that were lit with a dancing amusement as he buried a grin in his tankard.

Something unpleasant curled in Silver's stomach. It wasn't as if James was _never_ cheerful - Silver could usually prod one of those lopsided smirks from him without much effort, and James was quicker with them these days, as his past fell further away in the wake of years. It was only that Silver had never seen him do it in public, where he might be seen by the men and damage his fearsome reputation. Too, he and the newcomer sat close - not close enough so that they were pressed together, but close enough so that the stranger would not have had to stretch to touch.

He was almost certain James wasn't deliberately trying to provoke him, given that he had slipped out in the quiet of the morning to meet with this man, but the circumstances were suspicious, and they looked like old friends. It was enough to raise Silver's hackles. 

He couldn't quite swing his hips when he walked the way he used to when he was trying to seduce someone, but he was still sleep-touseled from their bed and he could effect it well enough. He saw the stranger's eyes fall on him as he came closer, and by the time he dragged a chair over to insinuate himself in their space, the man was looking at him with open curiosity.

James didn't seem to notice anything unusual. "Ah, I'm glad you're here - I'd like to introduce you to an old friend. Captain Thorin Oakenshield of the _Erebor_ , my quartermaster, John Silver."

"Pleasure," Silver said, taking the hand Oakenshield offered. He kept his grip neutral, but allowed his fingers to stray over the man's wrist, a light, fluttering touch that was nevertheless inviting.

Oakenshield's interested expression shaded amused. "I don't envy you the position," he said, his voice a warm rumble, neither loud nor meek. "If James is anything like he was ten years ago, you've a good deal of trouble on your hands."

Once again, Silver was discomfited - James didn't use his given name with anyone but him, not since he lost Miranda. "We keep each other in line," he said. "If you think he's a handful, you'd never be able to manage me."

Now Oakenshield's eyebrows went up and he exchanged a look with James, whose green eyes glittered down at Silver with something like annoyance. "Bold, John Silver. I can see how the two of you might suit each other."

"Thorin and I met not long after I first came to Nassau," James said. There was a strange kind of challenge in his voice, and Silver found himself arrested by the way the man's gaze went from open and light to hard in seconds. "He had only lately lost his ship and was in the market for another - and it's good news you've recovered the _Erebor_ after all that. Sent that bastard Smaug to the bottom of the sea, I hope."

"With extreme prejudice," Oakenshield confirmed, raising his tankard before taking a swallow.

Both of them on a first-name basis, then. James had been angry and violent when Silver met him, so it stood to reason it had been worse in the years closer to his expulsion from England. The easy familiarity these two shared spoke of intimacy. Silver looked between them and had a flash of an image curl through his mind, of red and dark hair fanned out across the sheets, the strands tangling together.

"Congratulations are in order then," Silver said, allowing a slow smirk to spread over his face as he propped his forearms on the back of the chair he straddled. "Have you come back to Nassau to enjoy the spoils of victory?"

Now James was certainly scowling, if not at Silver's tone then at the way he hadn't taken his eyes off Oakenshield for a second, but before he could open his mouth to respond, Silver felt the sudden presence of body heat next to him. Oakenshield's eyes flicked to his side, and Silver's spine went rigid in an attempt to keep from falling out of his seat at the sudden presence of a person in a space where no person had been only seconds before.

"There you are," a mild voice said with a hint of exasperation. Silver looked toward the newcomer. He was a short fellow - he would barely clear Silver's shoulder if he'd been standing - with a messy riot of honey-blonde curls. He wore a short sword belted at his waist, and instead of the boots that most sailors favored, a pair of straw sandals were on his feet. The indulgent smile he had turned on Oakenshield went sharp and frigid when he looked at Silver. "Bilbo Baggins, quartermaster of the _Erebor_. And you are?"

Silver quite abruptly realized that he had misinterpreted the situation entirely. He would almost be amused at the circumstance - the two quartermasters bristling at each other like cats while their captains looked on in amusement - if it hadn't been for the absolutely uncanny way Baggins had ghosted up beside him. "John Silver, quartermaster of the _Walrus_. I see your captain gave you the slip, too."

Some of the edge went out of Baggins' sharp grin, though not all. He made no movement toward the short sword at his side, but instead stepped into Oakenshield's space and reached over to pluck the tankard from his hand. The movement pressed the entire line of his body against Oakenshield's side - Baggins may as well have directly said _mine_ , and Silver more than got the message.

"Indeed he did, and I find him already at the sauce before it's even noon - Thorin, honestly." The prim fussiness of Baggins' tone did nothing to dispel Silver's wariness of him. Silver had, after all, cultivated the valuable skill of seeming utterly harmless for many years.

"Don't get into a pet," Oakenshield said, grabbing the tankard back from him. "James and I haven't seen each other in a rather large number of years, and when I saw the _Walrus_ in port I couldn't resist the chance to catch up. I did leave you a note."

"A note," Silver drawled, cocking his head at James. "Better than what I got."

James, at least, had the grace to look contrite at that. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Next time you could at least tell me where you're going if you're going to scarper off before I wake," Silver said, knowing it sounded petulant and not caring.

"Next time I will," James said. Silver found that Baggins and Oakenshield were watching the two of them with something like amusement, and the rest of the coldness had gone from Baggins' face. "Now, if the both of you are finished scolding us like unruly children, might I suggest you join us? I for one would like to hear the story of how you managed to recover the _Erebor_."

"That makes for a rather long tale, so it's a good thing we have an early start," Oakenshield said, with a wry look at his quartermaster. "I owe no small part of it to Bilbo here - were it not for him, I imagine the entire crew would be swinging from short ropes."

"Let's hear it then," Silver said, scooting his chair closer to James so he could feel the heat from the line of James' thigh against his own. "And another round of drinks." He looked up at Baggins, attempting as best he could to silently apologize for his pretended designs on the other man's captain. Baggins' nose twitched like he was considering for a moment, and then he gave the briefest of nods. Something metallic flashed, drawing Silver's eyes to the other quartermaster's sleeve, and a chill chased its way down his spine. Baggins had palmed a stiletto blade without Silver ever having noticed, just as he had crept up silently beside him. It was a good thing Silver hadn't truly had designs on the man's captain - and he was glad of Oakenshield having such a protective and dangerous man at his right hand. If he and James were friends, then Silver wished him good health. James had few enough of those, and Oakenshield seemed a good sort after all.


End file.
